


Foresworn

by Ladyfae (Ladysaille)



Series: Shadows Beckoning [7]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:40:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26093509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladysaille/pseuds/Ladyfae
Summary: In which unexpected arrivals promise change and Willow and Angel's relationship is defined.
Relationships: Angel/Willow Rosenberg
Series: Shadows Beckoning [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1845043
Kudos: 6





	Foresworn

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters herein. They belong to BVTS and its creators Joss and WB. Don't hurt me for borrowing them. They needed to come out and play...
> 
> Special thank you to Carissa T for the edit.

Bus entering Sunnydale:

Aria grimaced. The next week would be hell. _Why me? That’s right, you got careless and lost your blade._ _The council never did take kindly to that._ This just sucked, going into little towns, and retrieving lost ones. No one ever thanked her for the changes her presence appeared to bring. Not that she blamed them. One day she might meet one who accepted her fate. 

Maybe if we weren’t raised as humans before learning, we weren’t exactly human. Close enough to pass, to have children with humans, but once awoken, we left our human shells behind. It was unsettling, to say the least. Humans were, in Aria’s estimation, stupid, weak, and without the good sense to know what to fear and what to embrace.

As she neared her destination, the sword began to sing in the back of her mind. The bus stop was brightly lit, which managed to make the surrounding area appear that much darker. The sword sang louder, a haunting melody that made it hard to concentrate on anything else. Fear gripped her, Sunnydale, California, demon central.

The idea of seeking out a Sword-Sworn in this town unsettled her. The darkness that pervaded the very air as it came into her lungs didn’t bode well for whoever this seeker was. Light seldom survived consistent exposure to such darkness. This one would be tested, and she’d fail, and Aria would have no choice but to end a life that would have gone on unchanged if not for a stumble that brought her in contact with a sword.

Looking at her watch, she began to wonder why it was happening now. Why here? Why Sunnydale? She knew all about the mystical energies that converged here. She also knew that a famed slayer lived within the small town. She just hoped like hell this Slayer was not the sword sworn one. The only thing she really hated about this job was that she was flying blind. The sworn one wore no mark. There was no way to tell, other than the sword, who this girl would be.

*-*-*

Angel/Willow’s House:

Waking in Angel’s bed was becoming something of a habit. I should be ashamed of myself, or feel bad that I was this close to the man Buffy still had feelings for. Yet, the only thing that came to mind was how glad I was he was mine.

The bond between us hummed with sleepy contentment, and Angel’s arms loosened when I turned over to look at him. The bedroom was still dark, although the clock assured me that it was sunny outside. He shifted onto his side and rested his head on his hand while freeing the other to trace patterns across my shoulders and neck. The nightshirt I’d put on last night dropped down on one shoulder, leaving lots of skin for Angel’s questing fingers.

Tingling warmth bloomed beneath his touch. I lifted my chin and arched slightly as his fingers drifted up the column of my throat. The tingling grew more intense until my skin felt alive, and a wild feeling tightened my stomach. I caught his hand in my own. His mouth formed an easy smile. His fingers tangling with mine as we studied each other.

What were we doing? I mean, I knew we were cuddling, and Angel had a serious yen for the bond between us, but I couldn’t help but wonder if it was just the bond he craved. That it would have garnered the same reaction regardless of who was on the other side.

“You’re thinking awfully hard about something,” he said, his fingers tightening around mine.

I glanced away from him, uncertain. What should I say? _By the way, Angel, I noticed that you only seem to kiss me when things get wacky?_ That wasn’t going to work, though each time Angel had kissed me, it had been during heightened emotional stress. Did they mean anything? 

“Willow?” Our connection quivered with concern.

“What are we doing?” I finally asked. Yeah, that’s articulate, and you’re supposed to be the smart one.

“Doing,” he said. The bond was humming with something, but I wasn’t sure what it meant, only that it was a steady thrumming that grew louder the longer he looked into my eyes.

“The bond, the blood … these sleeping arrangements. The kisses.” I pushed the words out in a single breath, not sure why I couldn’t just leave well enough alone. Why’d I need a definition? I shouldn’t have done that, not if the expression on his face was anything to go by. Surprise, and something darker, anger maybe. I knew I was selfish. I wanted Angel, and I wanted Angel to want me, not because I was convenient or easy, or a consolation prize, but because _he_ wanted me.

Angel sat up. The blanket slithered down his bare chest and torso. I was so going to regret this.

“You want to talk?” Angel asked.

I nodded. He sighed and urged me to sit up, facing him on the bed. The blanket settled between us, and I wrapped my nervous fingers into the soft fabric. He caught my hands in his own, holding them gently.

“I don’t know where to even begin.” I glanced away, suddenly feeling as if I had no right to question him about our relationship. 

“Let me ask you something.”

I nodded. This would be easier.

“Why did you keep coming back?”.

“You’re my friend, and as much as I love them, they don’t get to dictate who I care about.”

The smile that brightened his face told me I’d given the right answer. Suddenly, I wondered if this was a test and what other rewards there might be for the right answers.

“We’re friends,” Angel said, drawing me closer.

What was he doing? A shiver worked down my spine as he lifted me onto his lap. “Angel,” I whispered. I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs again. Every time he got this close, my body forgot how to breathe. “Friends don’t …” His lips cut off my words. Unable to resist, I kissed him back, needing more of the heat that burned in the pit of my stomach.

I jerked back from him, my lungs burning. Angel’s eyes were devilish and sparkling, and I knew he released me only because he had to. His hand came up my back and pulled me in tighter. So much for Angel not being interested unless he’s high on shared blood. His mouth caught mine again. This time, he teased me into complete surrender. All I was aware of were lips, teeth, and tongue that slowly rearranged my world.

“Angel, please,” I whimpered. The sound was so undignified, I wished I could slip into the mattress and disappear. He nuzzled my neck in response but pulled back to look in my eyes.

“I like you, Willow. I like being like this with you.”

My cheeks grew hotter as he spoke. Like this _with me._ His body pressed tightly against mine left me with little doubt of just how much he liked being there. His hand slid down my back, teasing, and I pressed back into his touch, wanting his hands on me. Oh, I was a bad, horrible person. Buffy would never forgive me, but I couldn’t seem to care as he urged me closer again.

“When you gave me your blood, you created a bond between us,” Angel said. He began to rub his fingers into my back and shoulders as if trying to calm my racing thoughts. “I took a small amount of your blood when we found you at Drake’s lair. It was instinctive, reactive. I couldn’t help myself. Last night you gave me what I need, but sweeting I need you, not just your blood.”

The words made sense, but at the same time, they didn’t. Was he saying he was in love with me, or in lust? Was there a difference for a vampire?

I closed the gap between our mouths, curious and hungry for more of his touch. He tightened his arms around me, his mouth moving against mine. A soft breath parted his lips, and his tongue teased the seam of my lips. I opened. I needed, no, wanted this. His tongue delved into my mouth, slow, rhythmic thrusts that had me clinging to him. I opened further, teased my tongue against his, mimicking his own enticing actions. He groaned, the sound vibrating between us.

I drew back, trying to catch my breath. His eyes were demon gold, and the color didn’t frighten me. The hunger that burned between us made me desperate for more, wanting. It was unlike any feeling I’d ever known.

“You need me,” I whispered. It wasn’t love, but the bond between us seemed to sing with just that emotion. Angel cared about me, and it was deeper, more intense than any other feeling I’d sensed from him in the time we’d been bound. “I need you too.”

He pressed a tender kiss to my lips, his expression open and warm. “Sweetheart, if I were a good man, I’d let you go. I’d send you back out into the sunlight.”

I tightened my arms around him. “No, I’m where I want to be. With you.” His hands curled against the nape of my neck, and he urged my gaze back to his. “I’m not good, either. If I were good, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you,” I said the words in a frantic rush.

He stared at me for a long breathless moment, his mouth curling into that smile, the one I saw for the first time last night, equal parts pleasure and vulnerability.

“You are good personified,” he whispered, pressing his mouth to my forehead.

“When did, how did…” _it change, we were friends when had it become this other thing?_

“Did I first love you?” he finished for me. The words slid over his lips so easily, I was stunned. How did he …? The bond, Rosenburg, goes both ways, and with how you’re feeling, he could easily guess what you wanted to know. Wait … _He. Loves. Me._

His gaze had darkened, and he looked almost guilty. “Midsummer Night’s Dream,” he said very softly, leaning forward and pressing a tender kiss to my lips. “And I do, Love you, Willow.”

*-*-*

Sunnydale Bus Station: Evening

The darkness outside the tiny oasis of lights worried Aria. As if it might prove more dangerous than anticipated. She walked into the bus station’s small store, and glanced around, taking stock of the small building. Maps. If I were a map, where would I be? The only other person in the store was a tall, well-built blond. Aria moved to the rack of maps that took up a small portion of the coffee kiosk where the blond stood. His gaze swept over her as she grabbed a map of Sunnydale from the selections.

Uncomfortable under the blond’s steady pursual, Aria hurried to the counter and paid for the purchase. The man, he had a strange, almost disreputable aura that clung to him, reminding her of smoke and whiskey. _Why are you following me? Do I look like I want to be followed, Blondie?_ As she moved outside once more, he followed. _What_ he was Aria didn’t know. The only thing she was sure of was he shouldn’t be trifled with.

“You know, I know this town pretty well. If you need a guided tour, I could show you the sites.” he offered. She stopped moving, and turned to face him. The accent was deep, English, and oh so achingly familiar that she longed to curl up inside it and never leave. She missed the sounds of the country she had left all those years ago.

“As tempting an offer as it is, I am afraid I will have to decline.” She moved to walk away from him and gasped when his icy hand shot out to capture her arm. She turned to glare at him.

“Just who the hell do you think you are?” she demanded. He smiled then, and she saw a hint of what she could only assume was fang. _Great. A vampire. Just what I need._ She tried to jerk from his grasp. Instead, he dragged her closer, his eyes going golden in the darkness.

“I think I am someone you should show a little more respect for, little girl,” he snarled. What was his problem? Why couldn’t he go find someone else to bother? Aria had places to go, people to find.

“Why don’t you go find some unenlightened little human to put the bite on. I am really not in the mood tonight. Maybe some other time.” She pushed the vampire away, stepping around him. Anger always made her stronger. Momentary shock crossed his face before he fell in step beside her. 

“You’ve got moxie, pet. I like it.”

She turned to him and rolled her eyes, irritated by his words and annoyed by his persistence.

“You’re going where?” She asked him. She didn’t know why she was even bothering. Vampires and Seekers shared only one common ground: eternity.

“I thought, maybe, I could follow you. Keep you company, ease a little tension.” he said, and she stopped, shocked at the husky quality of his voice.

Was she being _propositioned_ by a vampire?

She stared at him. “I really don’t think I am your type. I have warm skin and all,” she said, continuing to walk on.

He jogged slowly to catch up with her. “But that’s what makes it so incredible,” he said as he reached out and touched her, and despite herself, she leaned in seeking the cool contact with his fingertips. “I am so cold, and you’re so soft and warm, sweet,” he trailed off, his gaze lingering on her face.

She had been propositioned before, only she couldn’t believe she was thinking about it. Course, seldom had the proposition come from such a surprisingly beautiful creature. She hadn’t been with a man in that way in well, ever, really. Seekers, as a rule, lived by themselves and saw others only when they had to. Desire never woken, need not be fed. That had always been her belief. If she never knew the pleasure of a man’s touch, she would never want it.

Two hundred years had, however, taught her that desire for touch wasn’t learned. It was ingrained in the soul and the genes, and she had wanted but had never seriously given it much thought before.

He leaned down slowly, and Aria realized that he was a good four or five inches taller than her. His lips brushed over hers ever so softly before feathering away.

“Another time,” the blond vampire husked. He turned and disappeared into the surrounding darkness.

*-*-*

Angel/Willow’s House Evening:

The library in the new house was my favorite room: all those books, the scents of ink, old paper, and leather bindings. There were shelves of tomes I knew would make Giles weep with jealousy, but what I found interesting was the two shelves of more modern literature that took up the wall beside the one large window. Covered as it was in heavy draperies, it allowed in not even a hint of light. Though past dark, yet the streetlamps didn’t penetrate the window. The wall scones provided a soft yellow glow that made me feel as if I were inside an ancient library across the ocean.

Angel came into the room. His gaze settled on me as he stood just inside the doorway. His hair was messy, his face still soft with sleep. It was just past the time for him to be up, and I put my laptop down on the coffee table in front of me and turned to face him. He’d moved in the space of seconds. There was worry nestled in his dark eyes, as if he feared he wasn’t welcome, and the strange uncertainty bubbled in the bond between us.

“Angel,” I said, unsure of exactly what was bothering my vampire. Mine, I tried to send the feeling the word inspired through our link, rather it worked or not. His expression warmed as he tugged me into his arms.

He lifted me and settled into my chair. I glanced at him, realizing he missed me when he woke. I snuggled back into his arms, content to be held.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” I said, explaining my absence.

He nodded against my hair.

“For all your questions this morning, you didn’t ask the one thing I assumed you would,” Angel said, his lips moving against the shell of my ear and warmth rushed through my limbs.

Glancing over my shoulder, his expression was serious. I smiled. I couldn’t figure out what he thought I needed to know. The only thing that mattered was that I wasn’t alone with these feelings. That I wasn’t a consolation prize.

“I’m not a second choice,” I whispered, “Maybe it’s silly, but really that was the most important part of this. I had to know you wanted me for me.”

His smile widened. “You’re not, and I do. Very much.”

He pressed a quick kiss to my waiting mouth. “Still can’t think of something that might be important.”

I blinked at him, confused.

“Willow,” he growled my name, catching my mouth in a much more heated kiss. What was I supposed to remember, and how on earth could I remember it when he was scattered my thoughts with such ease? The link between us hummed. Pleasure turning it indigo and violet as he continued to kiss me. He shifted beneath me, something hard and utterly male pressing into me. I pulled away, my breathing coming in stuttered gasps. His demon gleamed in his dark eyes. Demon, soul, and I started giggling at my stupidity. He wanted to know why I hadn’t demanded an explanation regarding his soul.

He slipped his arms around my waist and tugged me closer. “You mean about your soul,” I said and pressed a kiss to his jaw.

“Yes, my soul.” He whispered, nuzzling against me.

“It’s yours, at least as far as I can tell it is. I was researching the spell before Drake.” I sighed, “as far as I could find the spell that I channeled had no clause, and I didn’t curse you, I gave you a gift.”

“You were going to tell me this when?” His voice was guarded, and I realized he thought I was keeping it from him.

“When I could know I was right. I’m waiting on a reply from a coven in Minnesota.” I glanced at the computer. “I only sent it to her a short time ago, and it will take her time to work out exactly what it did or didn’t do.”

He relaxed against me, twining our fingers, playing with my hands almost absently, before his fingers began to intentionally massage. I whimpered, yet another thing that should have a warning label.

“I don’t even know if it matters, cause Angel, you weren’t a monk before you met Buffy, so I don’t think having sex was the catalyst for losing your soul. I always thought it was because you felt human, which would have been perfect happiness for your soul. Even if your demon was pissed.”

He continued rubbing my fingers. “The first time I realized you made me happy, it terrified me,” Angel said with a soft chuckle. “I thought for sure I would lose my soul because of a conversation, a hug, and I kept waiting for it to happen. I should have sent you away long before you burrowed so deep in my heart, but I couldn’t.”

I smiled at him. “I’m glad.”

*-*-*

Sunnydale High school Night:

Aria moved in the shadows, heading to some room in the massive building. The sword song hummed, leading her forward, she wasn’t even sure where she was going, but the blade in question was there. She crept down the halls, paused, and pressed against the wall as she spotted movement from the corner of her eye. Keeping to the edges, she moved down a smaller hallway that opened into a vestibule. The two large double doors that stood before her boasted windows she could just see into. Staring, she caught sight of three figures. An older man and a young girl were sparring with swords as well as a young man looking through thick books at the table.

For a moment, she thought she had found her sword-sworn sister, until she saw the cover of the book that the boy just picked up. All of the books on the table were old, and occult related, this must be the Slayer. The sword was in there, but it being in the possession of the slayer presented a problem. Just once, straightforward and simple would be nice. At least the slayer wasn’t the seeker. She sighed again and moved forward. Something tickled at the back of her awareness and she spun on her heel. The blond vampire from earlier in the evening was sauntering down the hall toward her.

She hastened toward him, her eyes lingering on his face for a long moment. “Who the hell are you?” she hissed, her gaze moving quickly back to the room.

He closed the distance between them, reaching to touch her shoulder. She glanced at him, wondering. This wasn’t the sort of place she thought a vampire would want to be considering what she knew about Slayers.

“I was following you, pet,” Spike breathed. She turned to face him again. She scrunched her brows, not sure how to take that news.

“Look, vampire, I am in no mood to play games. If you seek company, seek it elsewhere.” She said with no genuine conviction.

“The name is Spike, luv,” the vampire said, “and you, lady, would be?” He allowed his voice trail off, not sure why he was calling this woman _lady_ but somehow knowing it was appropriate.

“Aria,” she said after a moment.

Spike nodded. The name seemed to fit her. She appeared to be a few years older than the Slayer. Her movements were almost otherworldly, graceful like a vampire, but for the steady pulse that beat at her throat. She had long red hair pulled up into a rather harsh bun on the back of her head since the last time he’d seen her. He noticed the number of sparkling pins that held it to her head, maybe twenty or thirty of them. The contrast between gleaming, sparkling hair pins and severe bun made the vampire smile. His eyes lingered on the bare curve of her neck, where it disappeared beneath the edge of a tunic style shirt, which she had tightly belted around her trim waist. She was a looker, and though the clothes were not of this era, they looked lovely on her.

“Are you here for the Slayer?” he demanded. He was used to strange people coming to seek the Slayer. He hoped she wasn’t because he wanted to get to know her; she was just so intriguing. Plus, she smelled like heaven. He bet her blood tasted just as sweet.

*-*-*

Angel/Willow’s House Night:

 _Bad vampire_ ,worse perhaps than even I realized, but her soft gasps were all it took to send me beyond the point of logic. I had no right to touch her like this, love, even requited, didn’t give me permission to put my hands on her, but having coaxed her into my arms, I was reluctant to release her. Frightened and aroused, my witch arched to and away from me in confusion. If I weren’t enjoying it so much, I might have calmed her through our bond; instead, I simply observed the wild cascade of feelings pouring through her. Fear, arousal, hunger, uncertainty, and beneath all that the need to meld with me that she didn’t fully understand.

I teased her throat, groaning when her fingers tightened in my hair. Her lithe form pressed against mine. So sweet, so good, I nipped at her, and blood spilled over my lips. A few drops, not nearly enough, I drew on the wound before I closed it beneath the careful slide of my tongue. I tightened my arm low on her hips, holding her against me. Our shared pleasure turned the bond between us luminous.

Hungry for more of her soft skin and the sweet whimpers that followed my touch, I tugged at her shirt. Her gaze darted from my hands to my eyes, her breath stopped, and slender fingers wrapped around mine. I curled my fingers around hers and stroked until she relaxed. I was what I was, and though her fear was intoxicating, her pleasure was what I sought.

I reached for the fastenings of her blouse, brushing against the curve of her breast. Savoring her startled gasp, I pulled the maroon fabric from her. The soft flush on her cheeks deepened as she glanced down. The bra she wore was plain cotton without embellishments, stark white against her rosy skin. I wrapped my arms around her as she swayed. The shirt dropped to the floor behind us as I nuzzled against her throat, passing a gentle hand from shoulder to hip.

The link between us blazed, brightening with each touch. Her sharp little cries charted the progress of my hands over her trembling body. Her hands weren’t idle, much to my surprise. She crept hesitant fingers beneath my shirt and over my skin. Curious touches that lingered in a dance that left me eager for more. She pushed me back, tugging at my shirt, and I caught her gaze. The green was darker than I’d ever seen it; the pupils were blown. It was a look I wanted to see as often as possible.

With shaking fingers, she undid a few of my shirt’s buttons. I caught her hands in my own, drawing one to my lips. Her mouth curved into a sweet smile, and she leaned into me, some of her fear receding. I held her for a long moment, rubbing my fingers into the base of her spine. Her body pressed against me from hip to shoulder. She lifted her face, offering me her lips and whimpering sweetly as I kissed her. I released her only when I felt her frantic need for air through the link. 

I took a step back from her and undid the rest of my buttons. I shrugged off the garment, letting it fall to the floor. Taking both her hands, I rested them against my chest. Gazing at me for a moment, she licked her lips and seemed to come to a decision. Closing the distance between our bodies, she traced the network of scars on my chest with careful fingertips. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the same raised white lines. Teeth and tongue followed, dragging a low moan from my throat.

Her fingers glided over my collarbones, then her mouth connected with the underside of my jaw. Her lips parted, and the warm wetness of her tongue lapped against my skin. I hummed in approval, nearly purring in pleasure as her mouth moved. Teeth nipped, as she trailed down my throat, and collarbones where she lapped at the indentation, and the curve of my clavicle. The lightness of her touch was more arousing than the most practiced caresses I’d ever known. As her fingers danced over my nipple, catching it with the edge of one of her nails, I groaned. Her gaze shot back to my face. 

I dragged her mouth to mine, lost in sensation, in the sweet taste of her, in the hungry way she responded. Deepening the kiss, I explored her greedily. My arms wrapped around her, fingers dancing across her back. The bra gave with a little coaxing, the two ends coming open beneath my fingers. Willow drew back from me, hands coming up to hold the material to her breasts. Her unease whispered through our bond, cooling my hunger. I rubbed calming fingers into her upper arms, holding her gaze.

“Your choice, sweetheart,” I said, sitting down on the couch and holding one of her hands in both of mine. The last thing I wanted was to stop touching her, but I’d take nothing she didn’t willingly give. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Her expression conflicted, want, and fear warring in the connection between us, tempered by no small amount of curiosity. She leaned down to me, brushing her lips against mine, light teasing. I kept myself still, waiting. Only our lips touched, fleeting kisses that soon began to linger. Her mouth opened against mine, her tongue darting out inquisitively. With a small whimper of my own, I let her in, fighting my desire to wrest control from her. She swayed closer; her balance precarious. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her onto my lap. I released her mouth, nuzzling against her jaw as I situated her across me.

She caught my gaze again, and taking my hands, she guided them to the straps that rested against her shoulders. I curled my fingers around the fabric and gently pulled it from her body. She was perfect, small, and delicately made. I brushed careful fingers along the peak of one breast, watching her expression for distress. Enthralled, her gaze fixed on my teasing fingers.

I snaked my lips along her collarbones. Temptation gripped me. The taste of her skin was near as addictive as the sweet rush of blood beneath it. Nipping and suckling, I moved lower over the swell of her breast. Teasing her gently with the tip of my tongue, I surrounded her nipple. Her arms closed around me, her nails digging into my back as I drew more deeply on her. My hands slid down over her hips, gathering the fabric of her skirt beneath my fingers. I caressed the back of her right thigh, keeping my other hand on her hip. Lifting my mouth from her, I studied her eyes. I tightened my grip, pulling her closer.

“Angel,” she gasped, pressing her hands into my shoulders. I shifted my fingers higher, taking her loose-fitting skirt with me, and twisted until my back rested against the arm of the couch. I urged her legs on either side of my hips. I pulled her forward, rubbing against her.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” I asked, urging her closer.

Her hand wandered over me, tracing patterns on my flesh. Nipping kisses followed much the same path, leaving me gasping for breath. She stopped at the waist of my slacks, and I caught her fingers before they released the fastening.

“Angel?” The question was clear in her voice.

“Not yet,” I whispered against her lips. There was no way I would admit that she had my control in tatters, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to handle it if we went any further. It was heartening to know my witch wanted me naked.

I kissed her tenderly, before drawing back and running my fingertips over her right breast. I trailed light, barely there kisses along the column of her throat, before deepening them against the sensitive spot where her shoulder met her neck, my fingers still teasing her breast. I arched, thrusting against her. Her want burned through the bond between us, and I urged her hips against mine, helping her create the friction she craved.

“Angel,” she cried out, hips bucking.

God, I wanted to touch her, to press my fingers into her scalding heat. She whimpered, and I wondered how much of my desire translated through the bond between us. Did she understand the burning ache that turned the connection molten? Could she feel it tempered by the endless affection I felt for her? My need for her balanced by my need to protect her.

On her part, I sensed nothing but mindless hunger and need. There was nothing dark or dangerous, just the indigo of shared pleasure and the soft green of her love, which surrounded the wild need that stirred between us.

“Can I touch you?” I asked, squeezing her thigh gently, letting my fingers tease along the curve of her leg.

“Please,” she whispered. I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right until the wild cascade of emotions took over the bond between us. My fingers lingered just a breath away from her silken heat as I nuzzled her breast and slid upward to suckle her neck before capturing her lips in a hard, hungry kiss. She jerked her mouth away, eyes wide. I kept our gazes locked as I pressed my fingers against the fabric covering her.

Her hips arched forward into my touch, and the damp fabric of her panties gave slightly. As I brushed my fingers over her, her eyes slipped closed. Her breathing came in sharp little pants as I pressed closer. I nuzzled and kissed her jaw and then caught her lips in another breath-taking kiss.

I drew back to look into her eyes, wanting to see the expressions as they crossed her face. I slipped my fingers beneath her panties, the heady scent of her arousal filling the air around us. Her breath caught as my fingers danced over her mons and down along the tender opening of her body. She gasped, hips jerking frantically into my touch as I pushed deeper, nudging against her clit with careful fingertips.

“More?”

She moaned helplessly, rocking into my fingers. The wetness, the heat of her drowned out all the reasons I shouldn’t, couldn’t have her now. Willow opened further to my touch, and I growled as her silky, wet heat accepted one of my fingers. Her gaze shot to mine, her shock and pleasure as apparent through the link as it was on her lovely face.

She moved against my invading touch, taking me deeper. I groaned, rubbing my thumb into her clit, and stroking her with my finger. I added a second, feeling her silky inner muscles flutter in response. She moaned, rocking her hips to the rhythm I set. I nuzzled against her neck, her breast, suckling one swollen bud into my mouth and nipping at it with sharp fangs. Her little internal eddies turned to quakes, and she cried out, arching hard against my hand. I sank my fangs into her breast as she came undone for me.

Her nails left stinging lines down my shoulders. Marks I’d wear with ridiculous pride, having caused her such pleasure. She lay against me, limp and wrung out, her breathing beginning to slow. I gently disengaged my hand from her still shaking body and pressed a tender kiss to her brow. She looked at me, and her eyes were the loveliest shade of green I’d seen yet.

She lay still for a moment and then rocked her hips against the hard ridge of my erection. I caught her around the waist, holding her to me, grinding into her in response. It was adolescent, but it felt fucken amazing, her warmth seeping through the layers of fabric separating her from my needy flesh. She made a frustrated noise and pushed against my chest. I lifted away from her and sat on the couch, watching her, pleased by the unsteady way she moved. She tugged at my belt, unfastening it, and pulling it open. I was pretty sure she was trying to kill me as she tugged my slacks down off my body. The silk boxers I wore left absolutely no doubt of my state of arousal, and I half expected her to pull away, for innocence and uncertainty to make her retreat.

As though she knew what I was thinking, my witch straddled me, trapping my erection between our bodies. She moved her hips forward, rubbing against me. Unable to resist, I twisted her beneath me, nestled myself between her thighs, and thrust against her. The hot, scalding heat of her slid easily through the fabric that now separated my eager flesh from her.

I rocked forward hard, once, twice, finding a rhythm that seemed to please her as much as me, and kept at it, riding out wave after wave of shared pleasure, desperate for something to give, to break, to end. She pulled herself up, the shift in angle making her cry out as I moved against her. She bit suddenly into me, at the juncture of my shoulder and neck, and her sharp little teeth managed to draw blood, which sent my body over that sought-after edge. Her hips bucked against mine one last time, as my pleasure hit hers, creating a feedback loop in our connection that dragged her over the edge with me.

I lay above her, wet and messy, and completely sated. She studied me with warm, tired green eyes. She drew my head down, and our lips met in a tender kiss. “I love you,” she whispered.

“Love you, too,” I said through my gasping breaths.

The knocking must have been coming for some time before it broke through the haze of our mutual contentment. I didn’t want to move. I wanted to stay nestled in her arms, cradled by her body so perfectly. A growl slipped from my throat as I pushed myself up when the person at the door wouldn’t stop. Helping Willow to her feet, I mourned the loss of her nearness as she disappeared into another room to straighten her clothes into some semblance of order.

I glanced down at myself. There were marks all over me from Willow’s passion, and my shorts needed cleaning. I slipped them off and wiped the reminder of our shared pleasure from my body before pulling the slacks over my bare legs and fastening them. I grabbed the discarded shirt and quickly made myself as presentable as possible. As I straightened the collar, my fingers brushed against the bite mark Willow left on my skin. As I got closer to the door, I realized it was the Watcher on the other side, and I barely held in an annoyed growl. I dragged the door open.

“What can I do for you?” I asked between my teeth.

“We have some more information regarding the sword, and we need Willow to test the theory,” the Watcher said. “She wasn’t home, so I assumed she was here.” 

The sudden urge to drain Giles dry and hide his body somewhere ran through me before I reigned in my anger. He studied me, taking in my wrinkled appearance, and his eyes widened as he noticed the bruising on my neck. I met his gaze without regret or guilt. What Willow and I shared was ours. 

“Angel,” Giles began, “if you hurt that girl…” His voice trailed off as Willow came up behind me, slipping her arm about my waist. As soon as she pressed into my back, all the tension left my body. She was mine. _Mine._ As soon as they accepted that, the easier it would be for all of us. 

“He’s not hurting me,” my girl said, pressing a tender kiss to my shoulder. Through our connection, I could feel her attempting to face this as an adult, and beneath that sterling silver quality, I sensed the embarrassment of being caught out by a parental figure. 

“He didn’t do anything I didn’t want.” Her cheek pressed into my shoulder, and I could feel the heat of her blush through the fabric of my shirt. 

Giles shifted, clearly uncomfortable with the united front we presented, and the far more grown-up witch at my side. 

“You needed something?” Willow said, twisting her fingers with mine. 

Giles scratched at his neck, his expression wavering. “I . . .. yes, we found more references to the sword in the volumes from Drake’s lair, and there were, uhm, some questions that we need you to answer.”

Willow nodded. She squeezed my hand. “Giles, we’ll meet you at the library in twenty minutes.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, like he wished to tear her from my side to ensure that what he’d interrupted didn’t have the chance to happen again. In the end, he sighed, nodded, and turned from our front door, making his way slowly down the steps. 


End file.
